


Candy Men

by sahiya



Series: Two Watchers and Two Slayers [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Episode Related, High School, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-11
Updated: 2009-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-04 08:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the same 'verse as <a href="http://sahiyasfanfic.starkravingsane.com/unprecedented01.html">Unprecedented</a>. Buffy hasn't told Giles Angel is back. Giles hasn't told Buffy he and Wes are together. The SATs are on Saturday and Faith is refusing to take them. And then Ethan Rayne's candy gets involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my last [](http://community.livejournal.com/summer_of_giles/profile)[**summer_of_giles**](http://community.livejournal.com/summer_of_giles/) day. Thanks to [](http://antennapedia.livejournal.com/profile)[**antennapedia**](http://antennapedia.livejournal.com/) and [](http://fuzzyboo03.livejournal.com/profile)[**fuzzyboo03**](http://fuzzyboo03.livejournal.com/) for beta reading and to [](http://antonianell.livejournal.com/profile)[**antonianell**](http://antonianell.livejournal.com/) for the Britpick.

_"... and on that tragic day an era came to its inevitable end."_

1\. Which of the following best expresses the theme of the passage?  
a) Violence breeds violence.  
b) All things must end.  
c) All systems tend towards chaos.

Buffy threw her pencil down and rubbed her eyes. Stupid SATs. She could only hope _b_ was the right answer, because it'd mean that eventually this would be over, too. Though looking on the hellmouthy side of things, she guessed it was totally possible she might get stuck on some horrible loopy time thing where she was doomed to repeat the SATs over and over again, like Bill Murray in _Groundhog Day_, except way more evil.

It wasn't like she didn't have enough else to deal with right now, either - school, slayage . . . Angel. She rubbed her temples. If she was honest with herself, it was probably him, and not the SATs, making her head hurt and her shoulders ache.

The SATs weren't helping any, though.

Angel had been better when she'd gone to see him last night. A lot better, or at least on his own two feet, which was an improvement. That meant she could stop worrying about him and start worrying about other stuff. Like what Giles was going to say when she told him. Or, even worse, about how Giles was going to look when she told him. Buffy'd tried picturing that a couple of times, but never for very long.

Someone tapped at her window. Buffy jumped, then reached over to unlatch it and let Faith in. Faith swung her legs round and slithered through, grinning. "Hey, B," she said. "Having fun?"

Buffy grimaced. "Oh yeah, it's a party. 'Cept without people or music or dancing. How was patrol?"

Faith took a stake out of her back pocket, tossed it in the air, and caught it. "Didn't suck. Nailed six of the blood suckers." She threw the stake and then herself down on Buffy's bed. "You shoulda been there."

Buffy spun her desk chair around to face her. "Yeah, well, Giles and Mom've been drastic about this SAT thing. Giles keeps going on about how it's a 'rite of passage.' Personally, I think piercing is way underrated as an alternative."

"Got that right," Faith said with an evil grin. Buffy rolled her eyes at her. "Anyway, you don't wanna do it, B, don't do it. Ignore 'em."

Buffy laughed and tilted her head back to look up at the ceiling. "Oh, how I wish it were that simple."

"Why not? Wes's been totally flipping his lid over it, too. I just tune him out."

Buffy frowned at her. "But you're going to take them, aren't you? You have to if you want to get in to college."

"Yeah, well, newsflash, B: not all of us are destined for that ivory tower bullshit."

Buffy blinked. It wasn't like she hadn't known some people didn't go - college was probably not in Xander's future, and not only because he'd slept through chem class all last year - but Faith didn't have Xander's problems. Faith had Wesley, who would pay for whatever school she wanted in two seconds flat. "But don't you want -"

 

"No," Faith said flatly. "I don't." She sat up. "Whatev, you know? I was never that girl. Wes'll just have to get over it."

Buffy eyed her for a second. She'd gotten to know Faith, sorta, over the last few weeks, and she could tell she wasn't feeling nearly as "whatev" as she said, but it wasn't Buffy's place to push. Wes could fight that fight if he wanted. This was just something to file under "not the business of Buffy" and move on to the mess that was her own life.

Speaking of which.

Faith was fidgeting, looking at the stuff on Buffy's nightstand, flipping through her copy of _Seventeen_ and making a face at Jennifer Aniston on the cover. Buffy watched her and wondered, not for the first time, if she should tell Faith about Angel. Everybody else . . . there was baggage there, to say the least. She'd have to tell them eventually, but there would be major wig, and she couldn't deal with that yet.

She had to tell Giles first, anyway. He deserved better than to get hit with that in front of everyone. Because while it was entirely possible she was going to bomb her SATs and never get into college and be doomed to fast food purgatory for the rest of her life, Buffy wasn't quite as dumb as people thought, and she'd gotten a little bit smarter about her watcher lately - mostly from watching Faith and Wes snark at each other. What they had was kinda cool. In a dysfunctional sort of way.

Faith had stopped fidgeting and was reaching for her boots. "Anyway, B, I'll see you tomorrow in Eng -"

"Angel's back."

As soon as she said it, Buffy wanted to clap a hand over her mouth. She hadn't known she was going to say it until she did, and she hadn't meant it to be so blurty. But there it was. Out in the open. She couldn't un-say it even if she wanted to, and she wasn't sure she did.

She forced herself to look up and meet Faith's eyes. Faith was staring at her, mouth gaping. "Did you just say -" Buffy nodded. "Angel. Homicidal rampage, tortured Giles, killed his girlfriend, you sent him to hell _Angel_?"

"That's the one," Buffy muttered, looking away. "Came back."

"How - no, when?"

Buffy shrugged. "Last week, I think. That's when I ran into him, anyway. He's . . . he's kinda sick. I guess being in hell'll do that to you. He's him though. Angel. Not Angelus."

"You're shittin' me."

"Believe me when I say that if I was gonna play a joke, this wouldn't be it."

"Right." Faith finally managed to close her mouth, though she didn't stop staring. Buffy squirmed, wishing she hadn't said anything after all. Except . . . she felt better. She'd told someone. And Faith - Faith knew how hairy the slaying could get. How run-for-your-life _weird_ it all was at times. She hadn't been around last year, either, so there was nothing personal in this for her. Unlike, say, Xander, she wouldn't stake first and ask questions later.

Probably.

"Uh," Faith said at last, "who else've you told?"

Buffy shook her head. "No one."

Faith stared. "You gotta tell Giles, B."

"I know -"

"No, I mean, you gotta tell Giles!"

"I _know_." Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, glaring. "I know I do, I just - I don't know how."

"Who cares how? Just tell him!"

"I care how!" Buffy snapped. She stopped and raked a hand through her hair, pulling her hair band out to wrap around her wrist. "I'm sorry, but I - I don't want him to - he got so hurt, Faith."

Faith frowned in sympathy. "I know. That's why you gotta tell him. If he finds out any other way, B, it'll be bad."

"You think I don't know that?" Buffy puffed out a sigh and looked out the open window. She thought of all the nights she'd sat in here, grounded, usually, and Angel had sprawled on the eaves outside and they had kissed through it. She thought of him now, living in that big old mansion, all by himself. It made her heart ache to think of him alone - but then she thought of Giles, and how they were just back to being okay with each other, and knew she couldn't do anything to risk that. "I just don't know how to say it."

Faith didn't answer. When Buffy finally looked back at her, she was holding Mr. Gordo on her lap and nibbling on a finger nail. She shrugged. "I dunno either, B. But don't wait too long. The longer you wait, the worse it'll be. This one time, I broke Wes's favorite crossbow - never did figure out exactly what so special about that stupid thing, but it was definitely his favorite, he used to oil it like four times a week - and I didn't tell him for weeks. He thought he'd lost it and he was so pissed at himself. Finally I gave in and told him and whoa. Like that chick from _The Exorcist_, only way scarier."

Buffy cracked a smile. "Yeah," she sighed.

"Damn, I should go before it gets too late." Faith set Mr. Gordo aside and stood. She stretched for a second before grabbing her jacket off the bed and shrugging into it. "Wes is so weird - he's totally cool with me patrolling on my own, but if I'm home one minute after midnight on a school night he goes postal."

"Grown-ups," Buffy said, nodding with sympathy and trying not to smile. "What can you do?"

"Yeah, well, lucky for me he's got other stuff to think about right now, or he'd be quizzing me on stupid SAT crap. Hopefully he won't even notice when I sleep in on Saturday instead of waking up bright and early with all you college-bound nerds."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. She found it hard to believe that Wes would ever be that oblivious about Faith, no more than Buffy's mom would be about her. Whatever else Wes might have going on - and she had a hard imagining what that could be - there was no way Faith would ever be anything less than the most important thing in his life. Though Buffy supposed it was possible Faith might not know that. "What else has he got to think about?" she asked.

Faith paused with one hand on the windowsill and cocked an eyebrow at Buffy. "Oh, he's seeing someone."

That was a surprise. Wesley? Shy, geeky Wesley? Not that he wasn't cute, in an old sorta way, but who could he have met so fast? He and Faith had only been in town for a month, and for two of those weeks Wes had barely been upright.

Buffy hoped she wasn't a demon. She was getting tired of having to slay her friends' sweeties. Or her own, come to think of it. "Who?"

Faith shrugged. "Not my story to tell. Night, B!" She slid out the window. Buffy listened her to climb down the roof, then went to the window to watch her leave. Faith vaulted the fence and took off through the neighbor's back yard at a comfortable jog. She and Wes lived in a condo in Giles's complex about fifteen minutes away, which meant she'd just make her midnight curfew if she let rip with some slayer speed through the less populated areas. Not that Faith was real careful or choosy about where she showed her powers.

Time to quit studying for tonight. That last passage hadn't made any sense at all. Zero sense, in fact. Possibly even negative sense. Sense that was less than or equal to zero. Eep. Buffy put away her prep book, changed into pajamas and wiped off her makeup, then sat on the floor to do some stretches. She was grateful Faith had volunteered to take patrolling for her until after the SATs, but she was starting to get twitchy from the inactivity. Then again, that might not have been the lack of slaying.

She had to tell Giles. Faith was right, the longer she waited the worse it would be, and if he found out any other way - Buffy cringed. She couldn't let that happen. It'd just ruin everything they'd both been trying so hard to fix.

Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow she'd be in the library after school, training and studying with him. She'd make him tea when they were done, sit him down, and tell him.

For real this time.

Really.

***

"Rupert, you really must tell her."

Giles removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was their third time round on this conversation today and it was only half two. "I know."

"And I'm not saying this because I'm upset you haven't," Wesley went on, perching on Giles's desk. "It's entirely your business who you tell, and I realize that your position at the school makes all of this rather complicated. But if Buffy finds out any other way -"

"I know, I know. Do you think I haven't realized this?" Giles asked, aware he sounded peevish. Wesley merely looked at him, a faintly exasperated quirk at the corner of his lips. "I'm sorry," Giles sighed. "It's not that I don't want to Buffy to know about us, but . . ."

"You're afraid of what she'll say," Wesley finished quietly. Giles nodded. They were careful not to be overly affectionate with each other inside the school, but Wes rested a hand on the back of Giles's neck for a moment. Giles took a deep breath. Wesley had lovely hands, capable of doing any number of marvelous things to Giles's body, but a touch on the back of the neck should not leave him so . . . affected. Wes's fingers stroked through the short hairs at the nape and Giles shivered. "She'll want you to be happy," Wes said, in a low, soothing voice.

"Yes, but," Giles rubbed a hand over his face, "Buffy is - can be -"

"Here," Wesley said, straightening.

"What?"

"She's here."

Giles looked up in time to catch sight of the library doors swinging shut as Faith and Buffy strode in. Wesley slid off the desk, which didn't stop Faith from glancing in through the doorway and giving them a lascivious grin and an exaggerated wink. Wesley hadn't had to tell her at all, Giles thought enviously. She'd caught them out that very first night and never even blinked. Now, a month later, Buffy still didn't know, and Giles's silence was becoming inexcusable.

Hell, who was he fooling? It had been inexcusable for weeks now. Knowing this, however, did not make it any easier to tell her. And Wesley was right; the longer he waited the worse it would be, not to mention the more likely it was someone else would let it slip. _Someone else_ meaning Faith, since none of the others knew either. She'd shown remarkable discretion thus far, but Giles had to wonder how long that would last.

He sighed to himself and followed Wesley out of the office.

"So, who wants chocolate?" Buffy asked brightly. She tossed two brightly colored boxes down on the table before shrugging out of her jacket.

"Forty bucks," Faith said to Wesley, holding her hand out.

"Pardon me?" Wesley said, blinking.

"Forty chocolate bars at a buck a bar. Doesn't take a genius to work that math out. Forty bucks."

"It's band candy," Buffy explained to Giles. "We're supposed to sell it. New uniforms or tassles or something. Snyder was on the warpath. Here, take twenty. I'll foist the rest off on my mom."

"Er," Giles said, reflexively accepting the box she handed him.

"And what on earth am I going to do with forty chocolate bars?" Wesley asked Faith.

She shrugged and hitched herself up on the table. "I'll eat 'em eventually. Not like chocolate goes bad. Come on, Wes, fork over. Any time I spend selling these things is time not spent slaying."

"Yeah," Buffy said to Giles. "What she said."

"Fine," Giles sighed, at the exact moment Wesley put his hands on his hips and said, "No."

"What?" Faith said, blinking. "Wes, did you just say -"

"I said no."

"So what am I supposed to do, go door to door?"

Wesley crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm willing to negotiate. Let's say five bars for every hour you spend studying for the SATs? With a ten bar bonus for actually attending the exam on Saturday."

Faith gaped. Buffy and Giles exchanged a swift look. Giles turned on his heel and went back into the office. He gathered up the things he'd had in mind for training - a rubber ball, a blind fold, a crossbow and enough bolts to last them a couple of hours. By the time he'd finished, Buffy had grabbed her coat, backpack, and boxes of chocolate, and Faith had recovered her voice.

"What is this, blackmail now? I said I'd take the stupid test!"

"No, actually, you managed several conversations with me about the SATs without ever agreeing to take the test. I wasn't born yesterday, Faith."

Faith's mouth worked wordlessly. Buffy and Giles sidled along towards the exit. "This is - it's stupid, Wes. I'm not going to fucking college! It's a waste of time and you know it, so why are you screwing me around on -"

The doors swung shut behind them, stopping the noise - or at least rendering Wesley and Faith's voices indistinct. "Whew," Buffy said. "Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. Immovable object, unstoppable force."

"Yes, quite," Giles said, casting a worried glance over his shoulder. Not that Wesley didn't know what he was doing. "Shall we find some place else to train?"

"Probably a good idea," Buffy said with a grimace.

Unfortunately, with the library out of commission, that was easier said than done. Giles's flat was out due to lack of space and everywhere else was simply too crowded at three o'clock in the afternoon on a school day. Eventually they ended up at Buffy's house, since her mother would be at work for several hours yet and the back yard was spacious - more so than the library, even, but Giles didn't want to make a habit of this. He feared that letting Joyce get too close to the slaying might result in another chat like the one he'd had with her before Buffy's return.

Two hours later, having been smacked in the head five times with the rubber ball and watched Buffy decimate the target with the crossbow, he called an end to training. Her aim had improved marvelously this last month, as had her speed, he noted, and wondered if some competitive feeling with Faith was responsible. Either way, it could only be useful.

Buffy offered to make them lemonade. The day was broiling and he had nowhere he'd rather be than here with her, so he agreed and set himself up at the wrought-iron table in the shade to clean the crossbow mechanism while he waited.

He should tell her now, he thought. He would get no better opportunity. They weren't often alone these days with Faith and Wesley around. Giles personally thought that was all to the good, but it did mean that they had less opportunity to speak one-on-one than they used to.

Buffy banged the screen door open, emerging with a tall glass of lemonade in each hand. Giles wiped his hands on the rag and set it and the crossbow aside. "Thank you," he said, accepting his. She shrugged and lowered herself into the chair across from him, propping her feet up on the underside of the table.

"Nice day, isn't it?" Buffy said.

"A bit warm for my tastes, considering the time of year. October in England is most certainly autumn."

"Well, you could wear a few less layers," she pointed out. "That might help. I'm totally comfortable."

Giles eyed her sideways. Small talk was not something he and Buffy usually did. She was fidgeting with the straw in her lemonade, bending it towards her and then away, and her foot, braced on the table leg, was jiggling slightly. And he thought he would be the nervous one in this conversation. "Is everything all right?" he asked.

"Um. Yeah."

"How's your studying coming along?"

She shrugged. "Fine. I'll be ready by Saturday. Hey, you want some chocolate?" She bounced to her feet without waiting for an answer and vanished inside, reappearing seconds later with the entire box. She sat down and unwrapped one of the bars, offering it to him. He broke off a chunk, ate it, then raised his eyebrows. Despite the generic label on the side of the box, it tasted like Green and Black's, the likes of which he'd not had in America. Here everything was Hershey this or Nestle that, and both of those were, quite frankly, a sorry excuse for chocolate. He slowed his chewing, savoring it, then reached for more.

"Nuh uh," she said, pulling it out of his reach. "You want the candy, you pay for the candy."

He felt somehow less inclined to argue than he had only seconds before. "Very well. Twenty, you said?"

"Yup." He handed over the cash. She broke off a smaller chunk for herself and slid the rest across the table to him. She nibbled. "So, uh. I have something to tell you, Giles."

Giles took a deep breath. "I have something to tell you, too."

"You go first."

"No, that's fine."

"No, it's totally okay. You can -"

The screen door creaked open suddenly. Buffy's mother stuck her head around the door. "Buffy, are you - oh, Mr. Giles, hello."

"Mrs. Summers," he returned politely, attempting to disguise his profound relief. He couldn't possibly give her such news in front of her mother. Wesley wouldn't even be able to roll his eyes at him about it later.

"Hey, Mom," Buffy said, the words a bit too quick, her voice a bit too high. Giles glanced at her and wondered what she'd been about to tell him. Her mother's interruption seemed suddenly a mixed blessing. "You're home early."

"It's Thursday. The gallery closes at four." She surveyed their table and raised her eyebrows. "Looks like you two are enjoying yourselves."

"Post-training pick-me-up," Buffy said. "There's more lemonade in the fridge if you want to join us."

"And plenty of chocolate," Giles added.

"That sounds lovely, thank you." She vanished inside.

Giles turned to Buffy. "What were you going to tell me?"

"Oh, nothing," she said, far too airily. "I just - Faith said there've been more vamps than usual in Restfield. I was thinking about going out tonight for patrol after all."

He didn't believe for one minute that that was really what she'd wanted to tell him, but then Mrs. Summers returned, her own glass of lemonade in hand, and it was too late. He'd have to ask her again later - of course, that would open him up for her to ask what he had wished to tell her. Which he should tell her anyway. Giles ate more chocolate and did his best not to look too guilty.

Three and a half candy bars later, Giles politely refused Mrs. Summers's invitation to stay for dinner and headed home. He had brief thoughts on the way about stopping at Safeway, but the last thing he felt like was cooking.

The first thing he felt like, he realized with a grin, was Wesley.

Wesley's car was in its spot in the condominium complex's car park when Giles pulled into his own. He popped the last bit of his chocolate bar into his mouth and stuffed the wrapper in his pocket before grabbing the weapons out of the boot. He'd just drop them off at his flat before surprising Wesley at his and Faith's.

He took the steps down to the courtyard three at a time, pulling his keys out of his pocket and almost dropping them in his haste. To his surprise, the door opened at his touch. He frowned, eased it open the rest of the way, then smiled broadly when he caught sight of Wesley at his desk, the dragonfly lamp throwing shadows across him. He appeared to be writing diligently in his current watcher's diary. A half-eaten candy bar lay atop its crinkled wrapper within easy reach.

Giles set the weapons down by the umbrella stand and shut the door. "Hello," he said, letting a husky note creep into his voice.

"Hello," Wesley said without glancing up. Giles closed the door behind him and came to stand over Wesley's shoulder. Wesley bent his head over his diary yet further.

Giles let his hands settle on Wesley's shoulders and began kneading. "I wasn't expecting you to be here."

"I needed one of your books," Wesley said. "I've fallen behind in my diary since we got here. Travers will be annoyed if we don't send our reports on time."

"So?" Giles said. "Quentin Travers is always annoyed."

Wesley looked up at that. "Yes, well, we can't all have your bad-boy reputation, Rupert." He shrugged his shoulders. "If you please. I'm trying to concentrate."

Giles backed off, momentarily. Wesley was being challenging tonight. He could work with that. He watched Wesley write a few more lines, then break off a piece of chocolate. Giles smiled to himself, watching Wesley slip that chocolate into his pretty mouth. Giles wanted that chocolate. And he wanted that mouth.

Only one thing for it. Giles grabbed Wesley's watcher's diary and snapped it shut.

"What are you - Rupert!" Giles tossed the diary aside. "Rupert, that's my diary - if the spine is bent, the council librarians -"

"Sod the council," Giles said, insinuating himself between the desk and Wesley before the other man had the chance to move. He straddled Wesley's lap, pinning his wrists to the chair with his hands.

"But -"

Giles kissed him. He pressed their groins together until he felt Wesley's breathing quicken and his lips part. Giles deepened the kiss and smiled to himself.

Wesley tasted of chocolate.

***

"So I hear," Cordelia said from behind Buffy, "there's like this rule that if a teacher is more than ten minutes late, we all get to leave."

"Who says we have to wait ten minutes?" Faith said, eyeing one of the open classroom windows. "Not a damn thing they can do about it if we all just decide to take off. Pretty sure there's a rule about that, too."

Buffy shook her head, reduced 16/64 to 1/4, and circled C in her answer book. "It's Giles's turn to watch study hall. He'll be here. He's allergic to late."

"Must be a watcher thing," Faith said, glaring down at her own prep book. "Hey, it counts as an hour if I get the book out, right? I don't actually have to open it. How's he gonna know, anyway?"

"Hey, Buff!" Xander said. Buffy glanced over her shoulder. He held up a half-eaten candy bar. "Chocolate?"

"No, thanks," she said dryly.

"Give it here, Xan," Faith said, and caught it. She tore open the rest of the wrapping and broke a chunk off the end Xander hadn't gnawed on already before tossing it back.

"You realize there's about a bazllion calories in that stuff," Buffy said, watching Faith lick chocolate off her fingers. Xander was staring openly, she saw out the corner of her eye, while Cordelia glared at him from dangerously close range.

"Counting calories is for girly chicks," Faith informed her. "And I ain't a girly chick. You see these?" She pointed to her breasts.

"Oh yeah," Buffy heard Xander mutter. Then, "Ow!"

Buffy swallowed a laugh and managed a nod.

"These take maintenance." Faith held up her last bite of chocolate. "Maintenance." She popped it in her mouth with a grin. "You should try it some time, Buff. Being a size four is overrated. All that salad and shit."

"I'll keep it in mind," Buffy said, grinning, and turned back to her prep book. Not that the slaying didn't burn off pretty much everything, but life long habits of LA diets were hard to break. She looked at chocolate and saw an enemy only slightly less dangerous than the average vamp and a lot harder to resist. Better to Just Say No most of the time.

"I can't believe this," Cordelia said with an exaggerated sigh. "Where is Giles? I'm bored and he's not here to give me credit for it."

Buffy glanced up at the classroom clock. It was two-fifteen. He was fifteen minutes late. She couldn't remember the last time Giles had been even five minutes late. It was completely un-Giles-like. It gave her the willies.

The classroom door swung open. Buffy started to breathe a sigh of relief, then paused mid-sigh and blinked. That wasn't Giles, unless he'd gotten about ten years older and turned into a woman. Not out of the question on the hellmouth, Buffy guessed, but he probably wouldn't turn into Ms. Barton, who swung her bag onto the table, clapped her hands, and said, "Hey! We're all stuck here, okay? So let's just sit quietly and pretend we're reading something until we're really sure that old Commandante Snyder's gone. Then we're all out of here!"

The class tittered. Faith grinned and slapped her SAT book shut before stuffing it in her backpack. Buffy frowned, checking the clock again. "That's so weird," she said. She lowered her voice. "Did Wes say anything?"

Faith shrugged. "Dunno. Haven't seen him since yesterday."

Buffy stared. "And you didn't mention this before why?"

"What? I told you, he's seeing someone, he probably just spent the night. He's a grown-up, B, and so's Giles."

"What's that got to do with anything? Faith, our watchers are missing!"

That gave Faith pause, Buffy could tell, but then she shook her head. "Don't get paranoid, B. Look, you're just on edge because of the -"

"_Faith_," Buffy hissed.

"- SATs," Faith finished smoothly, then cocked an eyebrow at Buffy. "You told Giles about the SATs yet?"

Buffy squirmed. "No."

 

"So probably you're just feeling guilty, 'cause you know you should tell him about the SATs."

"I tried," Buffy said, fidgeting, "yesterday, I did, but then my mom came home - and that's not the point! Faith, when was the last time Wesley didn't come home? Without calling or anything?"

Faith shrugged. "Never, but I just kinda assumed he was," she smirked, "tied up."

Buffy stared. "Now there's an image I could've done without." Everyone around her was getting up, stuffing things in backpacks and grabbing jackets off the backs of chairs. "Come on. Looks like we're out early today. We can start at Giles's and see if they're there, or if there's any sign of what might've happened to them."

Buffy went to her locker to grab her books, then swung by the library, just to make sure Giles wasn't in there researching something. He wasn't. It was dark and locked up, which just made Buffy even more anxious. Faith frowned when Buffy reported this and for once didn't screw around, just slung her bag over her shoulder and followed Buffy out of the school and across the parking lot.

"I can't believe you didn't think it was weird Wes didn't come home last night," Buffy said grumpily.

"How many times do I have to tell you? He's seeing someone."

"Yeah, and how do you know she isn't a giant preying mantis demon, huh? Answer me that."

"Giant preying what?"

"Mantis. Xander almost got chomped on sophomore year by this demon who was pretending to be a teacher. Miss French." Buffy pulled a face.

Faith shook her head. "No way."

"Way. Welcome to the hellmouth, Faith. Just 'cause it looks like, talks like, and acts like a woman, doesn't meant it isn't a demon on the prowl for a nice old fashioned virgin sacrifice."

Faith opened her mouth, started to speak, then shook her head. "Right," she muttered. "So what about Giles? You screen all his dates?

Buffy shrugged. "Giles doesn't date. Not since - not anymore." And that was a place she really didn't want to go. Luckily they reached the condo complex just then, giving her an excuse to quicken her step. "Let's try your place first."

"Uh, no, let's try Giles's."

Buffy stopped. "Why? Yours is closer."

Faith shrugged. "Call it a hunch, B."

Buffy wasn't going to take time to argue. She jogged down the steps to the courtyard, then slowed, taking things in. The little table and plants in the courtyard looked like they always did - the chairs weren't overturned and the plants weren't flattened like they might be if there'd been a struggle. She glanced at Faith, who shrugged impatiently and reached around Buffy to push the door open.

Giles was crouched down next to the bookcase, book in one hand and glasses in the other. He looked up when Buffy came in, Faith close behind. "Buffy," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, sorry," she said. "We were just worried. You were a big not-there in study hall -"

"And you," Faith said to Wesley, who was sitting on the sofa, a piece of chocolate held halfway to his mouth, "didn't come home at all last night."

"I, uh, er, s - sorry," Wes stuttered, darting glances between her and Faith and Giles. Whereas Giles had apparently gone all Casual Friday, his sleeves rolled up and his suspenders hanging down, Wes was buttoned up all the way up to his neck with a tie and everything. Buffy couldn't remember ever seeing him in a suit before. "Very sorry, I - I'm sorry."

Faith stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Whatever, Wes."

_Whatever_ was probably Buffy's least favorite word these days, she thought with irritation, mostly because when Faith said "whatever," she never actually meant "whatever," but that she was upset and didn't know how to deal with it. "No, not 'whatever,'" she said, glaring at Faith, who put her hands on her hips and looked bored, then Wesley, who shrank back into the sofa, and finally Giles, who raised his eyebrows at her again. "Giles, where were you today?"

He straightened from his crouch. "I'm sorry, Buffy, but there's a demon that might be rising tonight. Wesley and I had to research it - last night as well. I called in."

 

"Oh," Buffy said. Then she scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. "And you were gonna tells us this when, exactly?"

"It isn't a very dangerous demon," Giles said. "Wesley and I will take care of it. You girls have enough to think about with the SATs tomorrow."

Buffy didn't know what to say to this. She supposed it made sense - except for the part where it really, really didn't. Demons were her job - well, hers and Faith's now. SATs or no SATs, for Giles to decide to just take care of this one himself and not tell her about it was weird. The last time he'd done that had been with Eyghon, and hadn't _that_ turned out well. She didn't think he'd do it again with a plain old, homegrown-in-Sunnydale demon.

Plus, Wes. Who looked like he was about to wet himself.

Buffy eyed him for a minute, then looked at Giles. He took one of the band candy bars from his pocket and ate a piece. He looked normal, she thought, if a lot more rumpled than usual. She exchanged a glance with Faith, who shrugged. "Hey, they want to take patrol for us, that's five by five with me. You seen any gift horses lately, B?"

"But -"

"Buffy, we're fine," Giles said, sounding sorta impatient now. "It's a very simple demon, hardly worth your notice."

"What about you?" Faith asked, giving Wesley a very pointed look. "You coming home tonight?"

"I, er, y - yes," he said, glancing briefly at Giles. "Yes."

"It will depend on the demon," Giles said.

"Great," Faith said. "C'mon, B." She grabbed Buffy's hand and tugged hard.

Buffy dug her heels in. How could Faith not see that there was something majorly weird afoot here? Faith's nails dig into her wrist, just enough to get Buffy's attention. Buffy glanced up to meet Faith's eyes. _Later_, they promised.

Okay, not giving in, just changing tactics. Buffy could deal with that. "Fine," she said, extracting her hand from Faith's. "Fine. But call if you end up needing help, all right?"

"Of course," Giles said. "Now, make sure to get plenty of sleep, all right? We'll speak tomorrow after the test."

"Sure," Buffy said.

"Five by five," Faith said.

Out in the courtyard they turned to each other. Buffy shook her head and cast a spooked look at Giles's front door. "Well, that was . . . wigsome. Nice job with the acting, I totally thought you were buying into it."

Faith crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah, well, I wasn't the only one acting."

Buffy nodded. "Giles?"

"Yeah." Faith gnawed on a fingernail, brow creasing. "And Wes was seriously freaked about something. I've never seen him look like that, not even with Kakistos."

"Why wouldn't they tell us though?" Buffy said, lowering her voice with a glance at the door. "I mean, why wouldn't they tell us if something was wrong? We're the slayers, not them."

Faith shrugged. "I don't know. But we can't let them go after this thing alone."

Buffy took a deep breath. "Right. Then I guess the thing to do is stake out their cars. If they leave, we follow."

Five minutes later the two of them were hunkered down behind a rhododendron bush with a view of both cars and Giles's front door. Buffy fidgeted around on her jacket to get comfortable. "Ready?" she said to Faith. "Your turn."

"Right. So. Heath Ledger at Cape Cod, and not one of the crappy beaches with way too many screaming snot-nosed brats . . ."

***

The door shut behind the girls. Ripper gave a brief laugh and found his cigarette pack on the mantle. "Christ, I thought they'd never leave," he said, slipping one out. "I wasn't sure how many more ways I could say _piss off_."

He flicked the lighter open, lit the fag, and took a long drag. Then he tossed the lighter and the pack at Wesley, who was still staring at the door like he expected them to come back any second and catch them - doing what? Having fun? Ripper laughed again, dragged at the fag, and wished he hadn't been such an uptight ponce for so long. There wasn't a speck of grass anywhere in this flat.

Wesley blinked down at the fags and lighter in his lap like he'd never seen them before. "Rupert -"

"What?" Ripper asked around his fag. He crouched down by his records again, shoving aside the book he'd used as a cover for Buffy. Lot of dusty books around here. His record player didn't get near the use it should. Or his guitar. His calluses had started to go - the beginning of the end.

"Rupert, they _knew_," Wesley said, his voice high with panic.

Speaking of uptight ponces. Ripper eyed him with annoyance, then turned away. "No way," he said with a shrug.

"But what if the council finds out? What if Travers finds out? What if my _father_ finds out?"

Ripper didn't answer. He chose a Cream album and put it on, waiting for it to scratch its way past the first couple notes. Then he straightened and caught Wesley's wide, worried eyes. "They won't," he said, making his voice soft and husky. He took a long drag off the fag, breathed the smoke out in a slow, soft cloud, and smiled in satisfaction when Wes's eyes got just a little darker.

"But we skived off," Wesley said, like he can't believe it. "_I_ skived off!"

"I know," Ripper said, stalking toward him. "Wasn't it fantastic?"

"No! My father - the council -"

"Bugger 'em," Ripper said, sliding to his knees in front of the sofa.

Wes stared at him. "What did you say?"

"I said, 'Bugger. Them.'" He pushed Wes's unresisting knees apart and tossed aside both the pack of fags and the lighter. "Lot of fat old men far, far away. Nothing to do with us." Ripper caressed Wesley through his trousers, feeling him harden under his palm. His protests were half-hearted at best now - not that Ripper was listening. There was just the music, the smoke, and the steady throb of Wes's body against his.

Ripper put his fag out and shoved Wes back on the sofa. It was too short for a proper shag, but he hadn't been thinking about that when he bought it. Been dead from the neck down for too fucking long, stupid old doddering Giles had been.

Never mind that now. Giles was gone. And in his place . . .

"Rupert," Wes gasped in aroused panic as Ripper straddled his hips, grinding their groins together.

Ripper reached down and grabbed him by his short dark hair, just hard enough to shut him up. "Not Rupert," he said, lips hovering inches above Wes's. "Ripper."

They'd shagged the night before, twice. Then again this morning. Then again this afternoon. Ripper'd been thinking about having another go when their slayers had shown up. He liked Wes best when he was too busy coming to actually say anything. Ripper wondered now what he'd been thinking when he started sleeping with the man - well, he gussed he'd been thinking the man had a fucking amazing arse, which he did, tight and muscled.

No room to do anything with it on the couch, unfortunately, and he was too impatient. He yanked open that poncy button-down shirt, ripped off the tie, and pinched a nipple roughly. Wes cried out and bucked. Ripper ground down against him, gritting his teeth, then ripped his own trousers open. He wasn't wearing anything beneath. Wes moaned, reaching for him. Ripper grabbed his wrists and held them over his head, wishing the handcuffs weren't so far away in the loft.

"Keep 'em there," he told Wes, a growl in his voice. Wes whimpered and obeyed.

They rode that fine edge between rough and painful. Wes lay spread out beneath him with his arms stretched over his his head, his stomach white and pale with a trail of dark hair leading down into his trousers. Ripper got him half-open and left him like that, squirming uncomfortably. He couldn't see him, but he could feel him, hard as a rock, and that was all Ripper needed.

"Ru - Rupert," Wes managed, voice strangled.

Ripper grabbed him through his trousers. "Ripper," he said, low and dangerous.

"Ripper," Wes groaned, and came, eyes squeezed shut, head flung back, exposing his throat. Ripper imagined gripping that throat, sinking his teeth into it, and came, shuddering.

Ripper rolled off the sofa and sprawled on the floor, feeling for the fags and lighter. He found them, and a candy bar. He held two fags between his lips, lit them both and offered one to Wes, with half the chocolate. Ripper could hear him breathing like he'd just run a bloody marathon, but he obviously hadn't noticed Ripper sitting there with the damn fag and candy held out.

"Take 'em," he said impatiently.

"Oh! Oh, ah, yes, thank you."

Ripper closed his eyes, smoking lazily, letting the chocolate melt in mouth piece by piece, and listening to Wes cough over the last couple tracks on the LP. It almost didn't piss him off. His body felt good, sated but not heavy, strong, stronger than it had in a long time. He felt like he could move in ways he hadn't been able to in years. Rupert Giles, always so sodding careful.

The record stuttered into silence after the last track. Ripper sat up, stretched, and tossed away his shirt and braces. He glanced into the mirror, messing with his hair. Why had he cropped it so bleeding short? "Let's go out," he said. "Tear the place up a bit."

"Out?"

"Yeah, out. I'm sure you've heard of the concept." He eyed Wes up and down. _Debauched_ was an underrated look, but it'd probably get them arrested in this town. "Not like that, though. Stay here."

He knew he had something in the back of his closet he could stand to wear out. He fought his way past the - _sweet sodding Jesus_ \- tweed suits and shapeless sweaters and pleated slacks to the jeans he hadn't worn since he left England. He'd become a librarian. When the hell had that happened?

Didn't matter. Those days were over, and his slayer would just have to get over it. If she could. If she couldn't - destiny was a load of shite, anyway.

The jeans were tight in the arse in the exactly the right way. He grabbed a flannel shirt and tied it round his waist, then dug around in the carton, hoping he hadn't run completely mad and donated them to Oxfam or something daft like that. They hadn't fit in years - he had a lot more muscle now than he'd had back then - but he'd kept them around. A souvenir. Like his tattoo.

Ripper paused, eyeing the tattoo. Rupert Giles covered it up. Wore tweed in unbearable Southern California heat so no one would see his shame. "Bugger that," he muttered, rolling his sleeves up even further. Then he dove back into the box and finally unearthed what he'd been after. He grinned. He should've known better. Not even Rupert "so boring I should just top myself" Giles could've stood to throw these out.

He bounded down the stairs. Wes sat up, blinking, and Ripper threw the trousers at him. "Wear 'em," he said, heading into the kitchen to yank open the fridge. There was a six pack near the back. He pulled one out and popped the top off. It washed away the taste of chocolate and fags in a bitter, foamy flood.

Wes stared at them. "Er, Ru - Ripper? These are leather."

"I noticed. Put 'em on. Wait - not yet." He ducked into the bathroom and found a thing of talc in the back of the medicine cabinet. He tossed it at Wes on the way back to his beer. "Powder yourself up first. Them put 'em on."

"I can't wear leather trousers!"

Ripper swung around the kitchen counter and into the lounge. "Why not? Afraid your father'll find out?"

"I -"

"Put 'em on or I'll leave without you." He wasn't joking. Wes, from the deer-in-the-headlights look on his face, knew it. Ripper lifted the beer bottle to his lips and drained it. Wes swallowed and stood, skimming off his trousers.

"Pants, too."

"But -"

"You can't wear pants with leather trousers, you git." Ripper lit another fag and leaned against the counter, enjoying the show.

Wes's face was flaming. He shed his pants and started struggling with the talc and trousers. "I think they're too tight," he said, sounding strangled.

"Nah." Ripper pushed the beer bottle away and decided to take pity on him. "Trust me. They're just right."

They were, too, once Ripper had finished pouring Wes into them. He hitched Wes closer, copping a shameless feel. "Your arse," he murmured, just to see Wes blush.

"I - I - I -"

"Later," Ripper said, shoving him away. He'd snog him at the Bronze, he thought. Hot and dirty on the dance floor. Find a place to do it again afterward, outside, in public. He'd always liked getting caught. How had he lived like a monk for so bloody long?

The air outside was just this side of cool, crisp and desert dry. Ripper made Wes walk ahead of him just so he could watch his arse in those trousers. He smiled to himself and dragged at his fag. He had guitar riffs running through his head and felt like he was just waking up - like the world was new and made of music and smoke and chocolate. Everything else was just a dream.


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy was crouched down behind the rhododendron bush and knew she had to move. Giles and Wes were getting into Giles's car, and if she and Faith were going to keep up on foot, they couldn't afford to waste any time. She really had to move.

She couldn't.

Faith's brain seemed to have shorted out just as bad as hers had. "Leather pants?" she kept saying, her eyes wide with horror. "_Leather pants_? Wesley Wyndam-Price in leather pants?"

"Rupert Giles in jeans," Buffy reminded her.

"Hell no, B, I totally win for most traumatized here. Did you see his ass? He has an ass! And I don't think he was wearing underwear!"

Buffy was almost sure he hadn't been. The two of them had passed under a streetlight after they left Giles's courtyard and she'd looked. Then she'd wished she'd hadn't, but some things you just couldn't un-know. "Maybe they're going undercover?"

"As _what_?"

"I dunno - oh crap!" The lights on the Citroën had flared to life.

"Shit. Rock and roll, B."

A phrase that was just a bit too apt at the moment, Buffy thought with some extra mental squirm. The two of them kept to the shadows as they ran along behind the Citroën . Giles was driving a lot faster than usual and even ran a couple stop signs, making horns blare. Buffy pushed herself to keep up, her worry level steadily rising.Giles'd told her this demon wasn't a big deal. He'd told her that about four times, in fact. So why was he driving like he was late to the next apocalypse and worried they might sell out?

Finally, Giles made a sharp, squealing left-hand turn into a parking lot. Buffy stumbled to a stop, bending over to put her hands on her knees. "Wow," Faith said, doing the same. "Jesus, where's the fucking fire?"

"Right here, I guess," Buffy said, and looked up to see -

"The Bronze?" Faith yelped. "That's where they're going undercover? Damn," she added, glancing down at herself, "I'm so not dressed for this."

"It's not a date, Faith. Come on." Buffy grabbed her hand and hauled her across the street. She could see the Citroën at the back of the lot, which was packed tonight - probably because there wasn't anyone at the door taking cover fees. That was weird for a Friday. She and Faith exchanged a look and a shrug and walked in.

"Oh, thank God, Buffy!" Willow grabbed hold of her and dragged her off to the side. "I was just about go try and find you. Something really, really weird's going on."

"No kidding," Buffy said. "Hey, have you seen Wes or Giles? They might not look like Wes or Giles."

"No, no, Buffy, look!" Willow went to wring her hands and wrung Buffy's, too. "The Dingos are playing tonight so I dropped by, just for a bit 'cause, you know, SATs tomorrow, but then -"

"Whoa, B, Will's right," Faith said. "Look."

Buffy looked. What she saw . . . was grown-ups. Except not. Except - _oh my God._

She and Faith had gotten off easy with jeans and leather pants. There were way, way worse things Giles and Wes could've worn - like _nothing_. Or close enough to make no freaking difference.

"I thought at first," Willow was telling Faith, twisting her hands together, "I thought, there must be a reunion in town or like a Billy Joel tour or something, but then it just kept getting worse and worse because they just kept taking more clothes off!"

Buffy looked at Faith - mostly so she wouldn't have to watch Mr. Collins hit on Ms. Barton anymore. Some things just should not be legal. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah," Faith said grimly. "Leather pants. Whatever's wrong with all of them is also wrong with Wes and Giles."

"But what is it?" Willow asked. "I mean, they're acting like a bunch of -"

"They're acting like a bunch of us," Buffy said.

Willow flinched. "I don't act like that."

Faith snorted. "Hell, I do. Damn. Could that demon they were researching be doing this?"

"What demon?" Willow asked.

"Giles told us he missed study hall today because he and Wes were researching a demon," Buffy told her. "But I don't know. This smells more like a spell to me, and the way Giles was acting, I think he was -"

"Lying through his teeth," Faith agreed. "Just like I would, and whoa, now there's something I never thought I'd say. Okay." She stretched, cracking her knuckles and rolling her shoulders. "It's cool. Not gonna wig."

"Right," Buffy said, taking a deep breath. "We'll just find Wes and Giles, figure out what's making them all act like this, and stop it."

"Better do it fast," Will said, "before someone ends up with heart failure."

She had a point. Buffy glanced at Faith, who made a _lead on_ gesture. Great. Buffy took a deep breath and dove in, sliding her way through a mob of teachers, dentists, doctors, accountants, lawyers -

Principals.

And she'd thought her evening couldn't get any more creeperific. Snyder slung his arm around her neck and _bounced_. "Hey, guys! This place is Fun City!"

He went to throw his other arm over Faith's shoulder, but she was a lot faster than Buffy - Buffy, in fact, was still frozen into a giant horrified Buffsicle . Of course Faith, being Faith, wasn't happy just ducking out from underneath Snyder's arm, oh no. She reached up with slayer reflexes and grabbed it, bending it behind his back.

"Listen up, you creepy little man," she told him, "you get a pass 'cause you're under the influence, but you touch me again and I'll pop your shoulder out."

"Faith!" Buffy and Willow yelped together.

"What, you telling me you don't think he looks?" she retorted, then turned back to Snyder, giving him a shake. "I - don't - like - being - touched."

"Fine! Jeez!" Snyder jerked himself out of her grip and she let him go. "Freak." He turned on his heel, stalking away with a defiant glare.

Buffy ran a hand through her hair. Faith had turned away, but Willow was giving her a look and Buffy had to agree. Mostly, Faith was fine, but every once in awhile something like that happened, and then Buffy had to wonder how sane Faith really was. Because there was sane and then there was faking sane. Faith mostly stayed on the sane side of that line because Wes kept her there, but Wes wasn't on call tonight and it was obviously wigging her out.

Just one more reason to solve this, fast.

"Oookay," Willow said. "Wes and Giles?"

"Right, Wes and Giles." Buffy stood on tiptoe, looking for the top of Giles's head. He was tall enough that finding him wasn't usually a problem, but he wouldn't really stick out tonight.

"Uh, B?"

"They have to be around here someplace, Giles's car is in the parking lot."

"B?"

"This place is packed, though. Who knew there were this many grown-ups in Sunnydale?"

"B!"

"What?"

"Found 'em." Faith pointed to the dance floor.

Hoo boy, had she ever.

For a second, Buffy's brain was like a TV whose reception had been cut. Fuzzy, white noise. Her mind absolutely refused to process what was she was seeing. Refused. Would not. DID NOT WANT.

"Are my eyes still in my head?" she managed.

"What?" Will said, sounding sorta dazed.

"My eyes. In my head. Is that?"

Giles and Wesley. Wesley and Giles. _Making out on the dance floor at the Bronze_. And there were _hands_. Four of them to be exact, and Wes's were mostly where they should be, but Giles's - Giles's were nowhere near where they should be. If they were suppposed to be in Paris, then somehow they'd ended up in Kyoto and from there they'd caught a non-stop flight to Sydney.

"Is it wrong that I think it's hot?" Faith asked.

That snapped Buffy out of it like a bucket of cold water over the head. She smacked Faith across the arm. "Yes, that is wrong, that is sick and that is wrong, what the hell's the matter with you?"

"Jesus, B, it's not like he's actually my father, and Giles isn't yours, either, you know." Faith rubbed her arm. "Take a pill, will you?"

"I will not!" Buffy glared at Faith. "Why aren't you freaking out? Something is making them act like this! And not just like the others, they're under a - an insanity spell! Or a love spell! Or a -"

"They're not," Faith said.

"Faith." Buffy grabbed her by the shoulders. "Our watchers are making out! With each other!"

"I know, B, but you gotta believe me when I tell you that's not the weird here." Faith sighed. "Remember when I told you Wes was seeing someone? And I said I couldn't tell you who 'cause it wasn't my story to tell?"

"Yeah . . ."

"Well . . ."

Buffy shook her head. "No. No way! He'd have told me!"

"He wanted to, B, he was just worried about what you'd say. Can't imagine why," Faith added in a mutter.

Buffy whirled to face Willow. "Did you know?"

Will shook her head mutely.

Buffy snuck another glance at them. God, it was like the sun, she couldn't stand to look directly at them for too long or she thought her eyes might just burn right out of her head - and no, not because they were that hot, thanks so much, Faith. She took a deep breath, glared at Faith, and stalked out into the crush of way too grown-up people bumping and grinding to the Dingos on the dance floor.

She tapped Giles on the shoulder.

"Go 'way, we're busy," he mumbled around a mouthful of Wesley-tongue. Buffy managed not to throw up in her mouth and tapped harder. "I said, go away, we're -"

"Guess again, Giles!" Buffy yelled over the music. She grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

"Oh, sod off."

"No, I won't _sod off_," Buffy mimicked. "Come on, we're out of here!"

Giles shrugged out of her grip and bent to stare her right in the eye. "Not. Bloody. Likely."

Buffy took a deep breath and reminded herself that she'd feel bad later if she broke Giles's nose. "Giles, I am not happy right now. Something has sent every grown-up in this town sweet sixteen, I've just watched you grope Wesley on the dance floor, and I have the SATs in less than twelve hours. I am pissed and I have superpowers. You going to argue or are you going to come out to the parking lot so we can talk about this?"

He glared at her, muttered a word she had never thought she'd hear out of Giles's mouth, and grabbed Wesley's hand. "Fine. But you're my slayer and you do as I say."

"Not bloody likely," she snapped back. Wesley shot her a very nervous look as he passed by. She glared and he jumped, scuttling after Giles.

By the time Buffy had fought her way out of the Bronze, Giles was standing in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette and looking bored. Wesley hovered nearby, frowning and squirming and looking totally ridiculous in his leather pants. He caught sight of Faith and flushed bright red to the roots of his hair.

"All right, Giles," Buffy said, marching up to him, "what gives?"

He dragged on the cigarette. "Nothin'."

"Nothing? Hiding from me for, what, I'm guessing weeks, that you and Wes have a thing is nothing?"

"Oh, so I'm not allowed to have secrets, is that it?" Giles demanded. He threw the cigarette down on the ground and smashed it with his heel. "You can keep things from me, but I'm not allowed one damn thing that's mine, because everything in the bleeding world is about the slayer. My whole life has been about you, before you were even born!"

Buffy took a step back. "Giles . . ."

"Buff, he doesn't mean it," Willow said quietly. "He's not himself. It's like he's drunk or something."

Yeah, except sometimes when people were drunk they still said things they meant. Buffy shook her head. "Fine, whatever, we'll deal with it later when you're - when you're -"

"Boring again?" Giles suggested. He lit another cigarette and spoke around it. "Sod that."

_Sod that_ was quickly joining _whatever_ on Buffy's list of least favorite phrases in the English language. She glared at Giles, who glared back and - was he wearing eye-liner?

This just got more and more disturbing.

He was obviously going to be no help at all. "Wes," she said, "is there anything you can think of that would cause grown-ups to start acting like teenagers? We were thinking a spell."

"Um," Wes said, his eyes darting from Buffy to Giles to Faith and then back to Buffy. "I - I don't - we're not allowed to study the black arts, it's forbidden, I could get in trouble even for knowing -"

"Right," Buffy said, cutting him off. No help there, either. "Great." She pinched the bridge of her nose, then looked up at the sound of someone running towards them - a man, she saw with instant alarm, mid-forties and stripped to the waist except for a really awful tie. He came pelting out of the Bronze, shoved Wes out of the way, ricocheted off Giles, and went sprinting across the parking lot.

"Oi!" Giles yelled. "Give that back!" He took off after the guy, caught up to him in about five seconds flat, and tackled him straight into the asphalt.

Buffy shot a desperate look at Faith and chased after, skidding to a halt just as Giles was picking himself up, half-eaten candy bar in hand. "That's my candy, you hear that?" he barked down at the guy, who was shoving himself up, groaning and glaring. Giles took an enormous bite of chocolate and swaggered back to Wes without so much as a glance in Buffy's direction.

Something in Buffy's brain went _click_. "Candy, candy everywhere," she muttered, wondering how she hadn't seen it before. That had to be it. It was the only really new thing in town the last few days, the only thing that had changed right before _everything_ had changed.

Faith and Willow were standing off to the side, staring in silent, gaping horror - or at least it had better be horror - as Giles tried to suck Wes's face off by the time Buffy jogged up. Buffy did her best to avert her eyes, but it was like a wreck on the side of the road - she couldn't seem to keep from sneaking glances. "Guys, I figured it out. It has to be the candy. It's cursed."

The two of them blinked at her, then Willow's eyes widened. "My parents ate a ton!"

"Everyone's parents ate a ton thanks to Snyder's crusade," Buffy said with a roll of her eyes. "Look, I need you to grab Oz and Xander and Cordelia and get to the library. Research anything that might help."

"Disturbing second childhood, got it!" Willow said, and dashed off.

"And what're we supposed to do while they're doing the nerd thing?" Faith asked Buffy.

Buffy shook her head. "We need to go to the source if we can, but I don't know how to find out where it came from." She glanced at Wes and Giles and then away, wincing. She was starting to develop a twitch in her left eye. "And those two are making it really hard for me to think anything but _ew_ right now."

Faith frowned. "Wait - sec, B!" She bolted back inside the Bronze.

Buffy couldn't take it anymore. She could look away all she wanted, but that didn't stop the audio track. She stomped over to Giles, who had Wes backed up against the side of the building, grabbed hold of his shoulder, and yanked him back. "Enough!" she told him. "Look, I don't care who you're -" she faltered "- dating, just don't date him in front of me!"

"Oh, why don't you s -"

Buffy got up in his face. "Finish that sentence with _sod off_ and you'll seriously wish you hadn't."

It was probably lucky for both of them - mostly Giles - that Faith came back then, hauling a disgruntled and protesting Snyder. "I'm not telling you anything, you psycho!" he yelped.

"Snyder, the candy's cursed!" Buffy said, pulling him out of Faith's hands by the front of his suit. "Where'd it come from?"

"I dunno, the school board -"

"Where? We need an address, Snyder!"

He cringed, throwing his hands up. "We picked it up from Fourth and Elm, a warehouse."

She shoved him away. Fourth and Elm was less than ten minutes away. It was the first good news they'd had all night. "Fan-freakin'-tastic. Giles, you're driving."

"Oi, I don't take orders from you. You're my slayer!"

"Will both of you shut the hell up and get in the goddamn car?" Faith yelled. "I swear to God, I'll take Wes and we'll do it without you if the two of you do not get the fucking hell over yourselves! Jesus goddamn Christ on a fucking stick!"

There was a moment of stunned silence. "Get in the car," Giles ordered Buffy.

_You get in the car_, Buffy managed not to retort. She settled for glaring and storming off across the parking lot, shoulders back and nose in the air.

This was gonna be a long night.

***

Ripper was glaring. At his slayer, who glared straight back, but also at his car. He'd been horrified when he'd seen it earlier - a gray Citroën whose radio had never fucking worked. Lost his bloody mind, he must've . First chance he got he was trading it for something fast and red and his slayer could just shut her mouth for once. For now, though, he was stuck with the coughing, hacking piece of shite.

At least the death rattle of the engine almost covered up all the whinging the other slayer was doing in the backseat. Ripper had thought she'd see things his way, but it seemed he'd been dead wrong.

"Wes, you have to snap out of this," she said, her voice high and grating. Ripper gritted his teeth. "You're seriously freaking me out."

"I - I - I'm sorry," Wes managed.

"Don't fucking apologize! Here, here, I know," she said with a note of triumph, "I haven't studied for the SATs at all, not one problem, not a single fucking one."

"I - I -"

"Jesus, Wes, just get mad at me!"

"Faith!" the little blonde chit said, twisting in her seat. "You have to chill. He's under a spell, he can't just snap out of it. Plus, we've got bigger fish. Have you looked around outside?"

"We got a pretty big problem inside, too, B. Two of them!"

"Well, look. I think the candy's just the tip of the iceberg."

Despite himself, Ripper looked. They were trundling along at a thrilling thirty-five miles an hour down a residential street, getting passed by a couple in an SUV who pointed and snickered while Ripper glowered. He hunched behind the wheel and ignored the stares from people standing in clumps along the pavement and in the park on the corner. Bloody humiliating, it was. Still, he didn't see what his uptight, pain-in-the-arse slayer was so worked up over.

"Huh," Faith said finally. "Night like this, you'd think a lot of vamps would be chowing down."

"Exactly. Soup's on but no one's grabbing a spoon."

"So where are they?"

"Think we're about to find out. Turn here, Giles."

"Ripper," he growled.

She glared. "Yeah, when all the vamps up and move to Cabo for the primo tanning. Here!" She jabbed at the window. There was a driveway on their right, the big sort meant for lorries. It was jammed with people. He grinned to himself and checked his hair in the mirror. This might be fun after all, even with the little blond chit. He swung himself out of the car and grabbed Wes for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

"Don't do that!" Buffy yelped, pulling them apart. "God." She looked Wes up and down and turned to Faith. "Should we even bring him? He's kinda useless."

Faith frowned. "Well, we can't just leave him here." She turned and shoved Ripper up against the side of the car. "Okay, Rip, listen up. You're in charge of Wes. Something happens to him, it'll be your nuts on the line. Got it?"

"Faith," Buffy said in exasperation.

Ripper knew he liked her style. He grinned and drew out the fag he had tucked behind his ear. "What's that you always say?" he said to her, smiling. "Five by five?"

She scowled at him and gave him one more good thump. "It'd damn well better be. Keep up." She turned on her heel and ran after Buffy.

"You heard her," Ripper said to Wes, grabbing his hand.

"I'm pretty sure we're going to get in trouble for this," Wes said, holding on tight.

"We just might. Here." Ripper slipped a stake into Wes's back pocket and copped a feel while he was at it. "Just in case."

"Do you really think there might be vampires?" Wesley whispered as they trailed the slayers towards the crowd of people in front of the warehouse.

Ripper leaned in and bit his ear. "Hope so," he muttered. "Don't you ever want to just clock some smug vamp with your bare fist and watch him go down?"

Wes's eyes went wide. "Hand-to-hand with vampires is forbidden for watchers!"

Ripper rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe we'll get lucky and there'll be a human to hit. Taught you how to do that, didn't they?"

"Yes, but -"

"Oh shut up." Ripper dragged the little ponce along behind him. The slayers had shoved their way through to the front, where a couple vamps were tossing candy into the crowd. Buffy punched one in the face and threw him to the ground. He took his box of candy with him when he went over and the crowd swarmed. Ripper grabbed two bars, flipped one to Wes, and held the other between his teeth as he hauled himself up the delivery entrance. Faith helped him drag Wes up, then kicked a vamp in the teeth when he tried to follow.

The smell of chocolate inside the warehouse was almost enough to knock him on his arse. There were boxes and boxes of the stuff, piled six, eight high along the walls. Ripper leaned his head back to see all the way up to the top. "That's far out."

"And here's our Willy Wonka," Buffy said, pausing with her hands on her hips. "I should've known."

Ripper looked over. Tall. Thin. Blood-red shirt. Ethan fucking Rayne. He felt his eyes narrow and something go hard and hot and dangerous in the pit of his stomach.

"Ow, Ripper, you're hurting my hand," Wes said.

Ripper ignored him. "Ethan."

Ethan, standing there like a git with a phone in his hand, smiled. "Ripper," he said, and bolted. Buffy made an exasperated noise and chased after him, followed by Faith.

Ripper glared at Wes. "Don't move," he ordered, and went sprinting after the slayers, vaulting over a folding table to fling himself down a maze of shipping boxes packed top to bottom with the same chocolate burning a hole in the back pocket of Ripper's jeans right then.

"Bloody hell," he gasped, finally stumbling to a stop behind Faith and Buffy.

"Smoking'll do that," the self-righteous blond one said. "Now shut up."

"Wha -"

"She said shut up," Faith snapped. "And didn't I tell you to stick with Wes?"

"Both of you, quiet!" Buffy stepped quietly to the end of the row, then down into the next, head cocked. Giles put his hands on his knees to try and get his breath back and glared sullenly at the back of her head. Thought she was so bloody special, she did.

"Faith, do you hear him?" Buffy asked at last in a low voice.

Faith shrugged. "No, but you know I suck at that honing shit."

Buffy shook her head. "He's not here. Maybe he went out the back way?"

A brief, high cry echoed through the warehouse. Faith's eyes went wide. "Shit! Wes!"

"He must've doubled back," Buffy said, and the three of them went pelting back the way they'd come, weaving in and out of rows of boxes. Ripper realized he was grinning savagely. Ethan was about to get beat to a bloody pulp by a slayer - two slayers. He'd had it coming for years. He only hoped they'd let him have his turn.

Ethan had Wes up against the wall near the entrance. He had his arm around Wes's neck almost casually, like they were mates out for a stroll, except Wes's eyes were wide and terrified behind his specs. Ethan, for his part, looked amused. Not for damn long, Ripper thought, grinning. Buffy'd grabbed Faith by the back of her shirt to keep her from knocking his teeth in, but that wouldn't last.

"Let him go, you twisted creep," Faith shouted.

"Ethan," Buffy said, with a lot less of a psychotic edge, "just let him go."

"Hmm," Ethan said, "I think not." He stroked Wes's hair and smiled at Ripper. "He is a pretty one, Ripper. You always did like them thin and dark."

"Don't flatter yourself, Ethan," Ripper said, letting his teeth show. "Wes is much prettier than you ever were."

"Oh God," Buffy moaned, "this evening just gets grosser and grosser."

"Prettier he may be," Ethan said, ignoring her, "but imagine how much prettier he'll be dead."

Faith yanked against Buffy's hands. "You lay one finger on him and I'll have your nads in a meat-grinder, you hear me?"

"Don't worry, Faith," Ripper said, smiling softly, taking a step forward. "Ethan won't hurt Wes."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you," Ethan said, frowning.

Ripper shook his head. "That's the thing about you Ethan," he said, taking a second step, then a third. "You always were a filthy little coward. You like chaos, but when it comes to violence you don't like to get your hands dirty."

"You, on the other hand, Ripper," Ethan said, "you've never minded, have you?"

Ripper let his smiled widen, his teeth show. He looked from Ethan's eyes to Wes's and back again. Ethan watched him warily. "Now," Ripper breathed.

"What?" Ethan asked, then doubled over groaning as Wes's elbow caught his sternum. Wes broke free with a stumble; Ripper caught Wes and threw him to Faith, who steadied him, then shot past Ripper to lay Ethan flat out on the ground with a vicious right hook to the jaw.

"Oi!" Ripper protested. "That was my hit!"

"Snooze you lose," she said with a shrug. She reached down, hauled Ethan to his feet, and shoved him up against the wall. "Bastard," she muttered.

"Ow," Ethan moaned.

"Hit him again," Ripper ordered Faith.

"Gladly," she said, pulling her fist back.

"No!" Buffy said, marching into the middle of the fray and pulling Faith off Ethan. "Guys, good cop/bad cop doesn't work if we're all bad cops."

"She has a point," Ethan said.

"Don't push your luck," Buffy told him. "I'm not on your side, I'm just in a hurry, and you're in a talk or bleed situation here, so what's it gonna be?"

Ethan looked from Buffy to Faith to Ripper. Ripper glared, his knuckles itching for one good punch, just one chance to mar that perfect, smug face. Ethan must've seen it in his eyes, because he winced and drew just a few inches closer to Buffy. "I'd like to point out that this wasn't my idea," he said. "It's Trick you want."

"Trick," Faith said, and darted past to slam Ethan up against the wall again. Ripper grinned and bounced on his heels. "Kakistos's Trick?"

Ethan winced and rubbed the back of his head. "I have no idea. He's a vampire; I'm subcontracting, helping him collect a tribute - and may I point out that I'm doing an awful lot of bleeding for someone who's elected to talk?"

"Yeah, well, you did threaten to kill Wesley," Buffy said with a shrug. "And apparently you're also helping vampires collect tributes, so my sympathy is minimal. A tribute for what?"

"A demon."

"He's lying," Ripper said, "hit him!"

The little blond chit blocked Faith's blow and glared self-righteous daggers at them both. "That's it. It only takes two to play good cop/bad cop and I am out of patience. Giles, take Wes and go wait outside."

"What?" Ripper yelped. "No way, you're my slayer and I'm telling you to -"

"You're my watcher and I'm telling you to take Wes and go wait outside before I throw you out myself. Literally. _Now_."

Ripper glared and grumbled and swore, but she wouldn't budge. He grabbed Wes by the front of his shirt, snogged him till Wes went weak in the knees just for the benefit of Ethan and the stuck-up slayer, and dragged him out of the warehouse with one last sneer in Ethan's direction.

Outside the crowd had cleared off, along with the vamps. Ripper jumped down into the loading bay, kicked a crushed beer can into the shadows with an unholy clatter, and pulled a smashed up candy bar out of his back pocket. "Want some?" he said to Wes.

"Yes, thank you." Wes took his half and bit into it. "That was - I was -"

"Damn useless," Ripper said, then shrugged. "'Cept when you weren't. Not as much of a coward as I thought you were."

Wes looked like he didn't know what to do with that. "I - thank you?" Ripper shrugged again. "I . . . I hope you don't mind my asking, but do you - you don't seem to like me."

Ripper swallowed the last of his chocolate. "I don't. But 's like I did - I used to. Or maybe I will. Dunno. Doesn't matter." He pulled Wes close, brushing his lips against his jawline. He kissed him, tasting chocolate and fags and a faint, bitter tang - adrenaline. Ripper backed Wes up against the side of the building, plastering himself up against him. Wes was hard against his hip. "How'd it feel to hurt him?" he asked.

Wes shuddered. "I - I don't know."

Ripper ground against him. "Yeah, you do. Felt good, didn't it."

Wes shook his head. "I - I had to do it. It wasn't _bad_. He was going to hurt me, I had to!"

Ripper drew back and stared at him. Ripper'd expected Wes to be riding the high, the power surge, the hard-on. But there was none of that in Wes's face and something in the back of Ripper's head - the boring bit, the bit that was howling in outrage, the bit that went on liking Wes even though he was a useless swot who did nothing but whinge - that part made him say, "Your father's a fucking prick, isn't he?"

Wes flinched. "You mustn't say that. He's a highly respected watcher and a -"

"Fucking prick," Ripper finished. He slid one hand down the back of Wes's jeans to squeeze his arse and the other one up into Wes's hair. "Say it, Wes."

"No," Wes whispered.

"Say it. Say, 'My father is a fucking prick.'" Wes shook his head. Ripper wedged his knee between his. "Say it."

Wes made a noise that might've been a laugh, might've been a sob. "My father is a fucking prick." He made the noise again, definitely a laugh this time, clutched at Ripper's shirt and said it again, louder. "My father is a fucking prick!"

"Yes," Ripper hissed, and kissed him.

There was a sudden clatter of boots overhead. "Giles!" he heard the little blond chit call. "Where are you? We got babies to - oh my God! Can't we leave you alone for one second?" She grabbed Ripper's arm. "Stop _doing_ that. Come on, we have babies to save."

"Babies?" Wes said blankly.

"Babies! Lurconis eats babies. You're in charge of Ethan, Giles."

Ripper opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it and smiled. Ethan, held immobile by Faith, looked unnerved for the first time all evening. "Er," Ethan said, "if you don't mind my asking, what exactly is your plan?"

"Go to the hospital, get the babies before Trick does," she said, yanking open the door to the backseat of the Citroën. "And I do mind you asking, so shut up."

"You think we're actually gonna be able to beat them to it?" Faith said skeptically, manhandling Ethan into the backseat. She leaned against the car. "'Cause people've been under the candy for hours - I think they're long gone."

"Fine!" Buffy said, throwing her hands up. "I'm open to suggestions if anyone else has any. But Oz and Willow didn't find anything on how to find this Lurconis guy, and I -"

"Lurconis," Wes said slowly. "Lurconis dwells beneath the city, filth to filth."

Everyone stared. Wes flushed. "What?" Buffy said.

"I - I don't know - I just thought it. Lurconis, it's Latin. It means -"

"Glutton," Ripper finished, then frowned. How had he known that?

"Yes," Wes said, nodding. "I - I may be wrong, but I think - I think we should try the sewers?"

"Fine," Buffy said, turning, "it's the best thing we've got and - where's Ethan?"

Ripper ducked down to peer inside the car. It was empty - and the door on the other side hung wide open. "Dammit!" he said, and sprang around the car. He could see Ethan sprinting down the street, his shadow skirting the edges of the yellow pools thrown by the streetlights. Ripper took off down the driveway, Faith at his heels.

"Wait!" Buffy called. "Lurconis - "

Faith turned and ran backwards. "We can't just let him get away, B! Take Wes - we'll meet you there!"

"But - !"

Too bloody late. Ripper laughed. "Knew I liked your style," he huffed.

"Yeah, well, there's only room for one of me in this sleepy little hellmouth," she said, grabbing his arm, "so I hope the candy wears off soon!"

***

Buffy stood slack-jawed for a minute, staring after them. _Take Wes - we'll meet you there_? She turned to eye Wes, who had that look again like he was about to wet himself. "Fine," she said. "Looks like it's you and me. You up for some sewer action?"

"I, er . . ." Wes cleared his throat. "I will of course be of service to the slayer any way I can."

Buffy sighed and blew a strand of hair out of her face. She could feel a headache coming on. "Fine, just . . . stay out of the way." She paced away and back again - sewers didn't help her that much, there were miles and miles of tunnels under Sunnydale . Places big enough for a really big demon to get his munch on - those were fewer. And places big enough that were near the hospital - there was only one. She had to hope whoever was behind this had decided to go for convenience.

Luckily Giles had left the keys in the ignition. Buffy slid into the driver's seat and buckled herself in. "Okay," she said to Wes. "Here's the plan. I'm gonna drive, you're gonna shift. Ready?"

"I really don't think Rupert will like this."

"Yeah, well, Rupert isn't here. So shift!"

He shifted. Buffy hit the gas and they went peeling out of the driveway and down the street. Buffy gritted her teeth and concentrated on staying on the right side of the road and away from parked cars. She had problems with parked cars. Or had, the one time her mom had let her drive.

Where was her mom, anyway? She hadn't been at the Bronze. Buffy could only hope she was home, crying over _Sixteen Candles_, because there was no time to worry about her now. She had babies to save.

She took the turn into the hospital parking lot on two wheels, came to a screeching halt, and flung herself out of the car. She could hear Wes behind her - she had half a mind to tell him to stay behind, but maybe he'd end up being useful after all. She crouched down to pull aside the manhole cover, and the sound of chanting drifted up from below.

She gave Wes a grim smile. "Jackpot," she said, and dropped down into the sewer.

***

Ripper could hear Ethan, could hear his posh Italian shoes slapping against the pavement as he sprinted down the street ahead of them. Faith had pulled away and was gaining on him. Another block or so and she'd be on top of him - tackle him straight into the ground, really muss up his hair. Ripper smiled in savage anticipation.

"Hey, you!" someone shouted. Ripper heard the sound of a gun cocking. "Stop right there!"

"Giles!" Faith yelled, not looking back.

"Got it," he said, and turned to face the cop, pulling him up short. "Ooh," he said, grinning. "Copper's got a gun."

"You'd better tell your friend to stop right now," he said, the gun wavering at the level of Ripper's chest. "Or I'll shoot."

"No, you won't, mate," Ripper said, smiling.

"Just try me. Just do it."

From down the street came a godawful crash. Faith gave a wordless yell, and the cop's arm jerked. Ripper grabbed it, shoved it straight up, then elbowed him in the rib cage and kneed him in the forehead, knocking him out cold. He jerked the gun out of the cop's nerveless fingers and threw it away into the shadows. "Told you you'd never use it," he muttered. He left him there on the street and sprinted after Faith and Ethan.

The crash had been two trash cans - Ethan had probably thrown them into Faith's way. There was garbage strewn everywhere. Giles leapt over it and caught sight of Faith up ahead. She waved her arms and pointed to the entrance of an alleyway - Ethan had gone in and she wanted to trap him there. He grinned and crept in the entrance to his left.

Ethan had apparently stopped for a breather. He saw Faith, straightened in alarm, took two steps and caught sight of Ripper. He stopped, turned back towards Faith, then winced.

"Well, Ethan," Ripper said with a smile. "Looks like the end of the line."

***

Four robed vamps and Trick. Those were not Buffy's favorite odds without Faith or Giles backing her up. No use letting on, though. She landed easily at the bottom of the ladder, gave them her best perky smile, and said, "Hi!"

They snarled and swarmed towards her. Buffy drew them away from the babies, which were squalling their little lungs out. She kicked one vamp in the head, knocking it back into Trick, then spun to jab another in the sternum and shove it into the path of one of its pals. She needed more room to maneuver, or she was gonna start having problems. She hated fighting with her back against a wall.

Wes landed behind her with an undignified oof. Buffy ducked, feigned to the left, kicked the vamp's legs out from under him, and turned just in time to stake the one who'd thought he was sneaking up on her. Wes pushed the babies out of the way, further back into the tunnels, which let Buffy finally come out into the open. One of the vamps rushed her and she used its momentum to drive her stake right into its heart.

Supernaturally strong arms grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. She kicked back and missed. She yelped and twisted, then stumbled as the vamp exploded into dust with the usual death scream. She turned and saw Wes staring at her in shock, stake in his hand.

"Good job," she said, then turned to deliver a roundhouse kick to the head of the last robed vamp. He went flying into the pool of yucky sewer water on the other side of the torches, causing a small tidal wave to wash over the sides. Buffy skipped backwards, trying to keep it off her shoes, then paused at the sound of a faint rumble.

Something big was coming. And she'd lay odds it was hungry.

***

Ethan looked from Ripper to Faith and back again. He had his back up against a dirty, graffitied wall and that shirt of his wasn't spotless anymore. He was out of breath and sweating. So was Ripper, but he didn't care as long as Ethan was as dirty as he was.

"No Buffy here this time," Faith remarked, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you hurt my watcher, you bastard."

"Come now, not really," Ethan pointed out, smiling. "He was just a bit of insurance - I was never really going to hurt him."

"Not how it looked from where I was standing," Faith said. "And I get really, really pissed when people hurt my watcher." She swaggered up and got in his face, cocking her hip to the side. Ripper eyed that hip appreciatively, then realized Ethan had one eye on him. And it was smirking, even if the rest of him wasn't.

"Yes, well, be that as it may," Ethan said, looking down at her, "I'm afraid you lot are the white hats, and as such there isn't -"

Faith struck without warning. Ethan's head rocked back, smacking into the wall. Giles rocked back on his heels in glee, grinning at the gobsmacked look on Ethan's face. "Isn't what?" she asked dangerously, moving in closer to hold him up.

"Anything you can do to me," he finished. "Bloody hell, I think you knocked a tooth loose."

"Yeah, I'll be losing a lot of sleep over that." She backed off - Ethan straightened his shirt - and crossed her arms. "Now I'm gonna tell you what you're going to do, which is to get your sorry, skinny ass out ofSunnydale and never come back. Got it?"

"Well, now, that might be a problem. You see, business on the hellmouth -"

Faith kneed him in the stomach. He doubled over. "I hope I didn't say anything to make you think this was a negotiation, Rayne. You get out, or I get nasty." She bent down and put her mouth next to his ear, but Ripper could still hear her whisper, "And I'm just waiting for an excuse."

"All right, all right." Ethan straightened. "You aren't the sane half of the dynamic slaying duo, are you?" He backed away just in time to avoid another smack across the face, much to Ripper's disappointment. "I'm going. I'll be out of town by dawn." He back away slowly, hand stealing to his ribs, and nodded once to Ripper. "Be seeing you."

Faith dusted her hands off. "There. Time to party in the sewers." She took off at a run in the opposite direction without waiting for an answer. Ripper watched her, then turned. Ethan had paused at the other end of the alleyway.

"Watch that one, Ripper," he said. "She's you and me. She's trouble."

"Shut up, Ethan," Ripper said, and went pounding out of the alley after Faith.

***

"Er, what's that?" Wes asked nervously, backing up to the ladder and looping his arm around it, as though that would help somehow against a baby-eating demon.

Buffy didn't answer. She was too busy watching the entrance to the tunnel and the pool, where the vamp she'd tossed into it was trying to climb out. The rumbling got louder and louder, like the approach of an earthquake, and then a massive reptilian head emerged and gulped down the vamp in a single bite.

Well, that was . . . interesting. "Lurconis, I'm thinking," Buffy said, eyebrows still up.

"Ordinarily I like other people to do my fighting for me," Trick said, striding into her path as though the last of his minions hadn't just been made a midnight snack, "but I just gotta see what you got."

Buffy shrugged, flexing. "Just tell me when it hurts."

"Buffy -" Wes said.

"Just stay back, Wes!" she called. The other vamps had been a nice warm-up, but Trick would be the real thing. He opened high, so she dropped and and kicked out low. He jumped and laughed.

"Feisty!" he said.

"That's me," she said grimly, trying to drive him towards the pool. Two birds, one stone - if Lurconis was busy chowing down on Trick, maybe she could figure out what to do about the pest problem.

No such luck. Buffy moved in and he met her, lifted her straight off her feet and spun them around so her back was to the pool. She kneed him in the stomach, which made him snarl, but all it would take was one good shove -

A strangled shout made them both look up. Wes came flying in, stake raised. "No, don't!" Buffy yelled, but it was too late. Trick grabbed him and flung him in the pool.

"Wes!" she yelped. He surfaced, grabbed onto the side, and dragged himself up. She hauled him out the rest of the way just as the rumbling started up again and thenLurconis was there, hungry and roaring. She reached up, broke off a gas main, catching it on one of the torches. It caught with a _whoosh_ and she aimed it at the demon's massive, scaley head, gritting her teeth in concentration. The roar turned to a scream and the smell of barbecued demon snake joined all the rest of Buffy's favorite scents to make a very special, Sunnydale exclusive "Eau de Sewer."

She let the gas main drop and turned to deal with Trick just in time to see him disappearing up the ladder. He stuck his head back down. "You and me, girl," he said. "There's high times ahead."

She rolled her eyes. "They can never just leave," she muttered, slumped down next to Wes, who looked as though he might never move again. "Always got to say something. You okay?"

"I . . ." Wes pressed a thumb to his forehead. "I feel a bit woozy. I think the candy might be wearing off."

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God. Uh." She eyed him. "Just don't, like, barf on me."

"I'll do my best."

She wrinkled her nose. "Good."

The ladder rattled. Giles's legs appeared and he dropped down, followed by Faith. "Oi!" he said. "What'd we miss?"

"Lurconis?" Faith demanded.

Buffy shrugged. "Medium-rare. Ethan?"

"Gone," Faith said.

Exactly what she wanted to hear. "Great. Time to take these babies back to the hospital and go home. SATs in the morning," Buffy reminded Faith with a grimace. "And we should probably get those two home before they crash," she added, nodding towards Wes and Giles. Wes looked sorta green. Giles looked all right so far, but it'd hit him soon, Buffy guessed.

"Good idea," Wes said, sounding kinda faint. "I think it might be rather . . . unpleasant. Faith, perhaps you'd best sleep at Buffy's tonight, so as not to miss the exam in the morning."

"What?" she yelped. "No way! We made a deal based on band candy, Wes, but the candy was cursed -"

"Which in no way negates our deal. You take the exam tomorrow."

Faith glared and scowled and grumbled, but Buffy didn't need to dig that hard to see the relief just beneath the surface. She was feeling it, too - grown-ups were one of those things you just didn't appreciate until you didn't have them anymore.

Not that she'd ever tell them that.

***

"Oh God," Giles groaned.

"Bloody hell," Wesley agreed.

Giles started to roll over onto his side, then thought better of it and stayed on his back, arm flung up over his eyes to keep out the light filtering in through the curtains. "Ethan bloody Rayne. I can't believe I never got to hit him."

"I did," Wesley said, with obvious satisfaction.

"Yes," Giles said, bringing his arm down to smile at him. "Your shining moment."

"Oh, shut up. Just for that, I'll have something to say about your taste in ex-lovers once I'm sure talking won't make me throw up."

"I'll undoubtedly deserve it," Giles said, and pulled at his temples. "God, I haven't had a hangover like this since that Christmas party they let Robson make the punch. Were you in London for that?"

Wesley shrugged. "Most likely. I'd never have touched it, though - 'a gentleman drinks scotch, Wesley, if he drinks at all.' My father's adage," he added bitterly.

Giles did roll over then, the better to see Wesley's face. "You're not him," he said gently.

Wesley gave a short laugh. "Oh, there was never any danger of that."

"That wasn't what I meant," he chided, and brushed his knuckles against Wes's cheek until he looked at him. "You have only to look at Faith to know you're so much more than he ever was - or could be."

Wes caught his hand and kissed it. "I know," he said, glancing away. "I know that, but sometimes," his voice caught, "sometimes I'm still that little boy, and all I want to hear is, 'Good work.' Just once."

Giles smiled sadly. "Come here." Wes fit easily into his arms. Giles nuzzled the back of his neck, breathing him in. He still smelled faintly of chocolate and cigarette smoke, a bit stale now, souvenirs from the night before. It had been so strange to want Wes with that sort of urgency, even while not liking him much at all. Giles had to say he much preferred this, even if youth did have its advantages.

Giles drew a deep breath. Perhaps now was not the time to bring this up. Then again, he doubted there would ever be a good time for him to question Faith's sanity, and at least now he and Wes were together and alone, which was not often the case. "Speaking of Faith," he began, tentatively.

The front door slammed downstairs. They both winced, then winced again when Buffy shouted up the stairs, "Rise and shine, watchers!"

"I took the goddamn SATs, Wes, and now you're taking me out to breakfast!" Faith added.

"Kill me now," Wes said, pushing himself to a sitting position - sort of - on the edge of the bed. He slumped over. "She's going to order biscuits and gravy just to watch me turn green, and there is no hope of getting a decent cup of tea in this town."

"Gina's," Giles recommended, "over in the strip mall with that juice place whose name I refuse to say - it's less coffee-flavored than most of the others."

Wesley nodded and staggered to his feet. "Thanks." He dressed in rumpled jeans and a jumper, pausing to grimace at the leather trousers flung over the chair. "I can't believe I wore those," he muttered.

Giles smiled, enjoying the view from the head of the bed. The conversation about Faith could wait till another day - it was best not had with a hangover, probably. "I can."

Wes shot him a look that was half-grin, half-glare, and padded out of the room and down the stairs. Giles heard him exchange a few words with Buffy, make a brief detour into the loo, and then the front door open and shut.

"Giles, you decent?" Buffy called, not quite so ear-splittingly loud this time.

He was, but he twitched the blankets more thoroughly over his lap, just in case. "Yes."

She skipped up the stairs and into the loft, looking remarkably chipper for someone who had just sat a three hour exam - though the very large coffee in her hand probably had something to do with it. She had one for him as well, thank God. He'd have preferred tea, but he'd take what he could get.

"Figured you'd need it," she said, folding herself up gracefully to sit on the coverlet. "There were a lot of really hung-over looking parents dropping off kids for the test this morning. My mom hadn't gotten up when we left."

"Yes, as with most drugs, coming down is much less fun than being high. Buffy," he said, before she could reply, "I really must apologize."

She shrugged. "Don't worry, Giles, it was the candy. Um." She glanced up, frowning. "It was the candy, wasn't it? You - you don't really feel like you've never had anything in your life that was just yours, do you?"

Giles sighed. "No. When I was twenty, well, I might have answered differently. Now, though - Buffy, please believe me when I say that any sacrifices I might have made to be your watcher are entirely worth it to me." The frown eased slightly and she nodded, obviously relieved. "That isn't quite what I meant, though. I should have told you long ago about Wesley and myself. I meant to, I truly did, I just -"

"Was afraid I'd wig," Buffy said. "Which I sorta did, so, you know, point taken."

"Yes, well." Giles cleared his throat. "You might not have 'wigged,' as you say, if you hadn't found out in the worst way imaginable."

"Right." Buffy swallowed and looked away, tracing the pattern on the bedspread. "Wow, I'm really not going to get a better opening than that. Okay." She took a deep breath. "Remember how I had something to tell you before?"

Giles set his coffee cup aside on the nightstand and straightened up, suddenly wishing he wasn't dressed in a sweat-stained undershirt and boxers. "Yes?"

"Um. Yeah." She took a deep breath. "A few nights ago - about a week, actually - I was out on patrol in Restfield and - and I saw Angel."

He stared at her, then reached out to cover her hand with his. "Buffy, I know we talked about this - it's usual to have dreams about -"

She shook her head. "This wasn't a dream, Giles. He was real. And - and himself, Giles, not - not Angelus. He's back, and he's real, and he's living in the Crawford Street mansion. I took him blood two nights ago. He's been sorta sick, but he's getting better." She swallowed, her hands twisting in her lap. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Giles, I'm so sorry, but I didn't know how and after - after everything, I just . . ." She gulped air. "I didn't want to screw everything up again."

Giles couldn't speak. Angel, back from hell. Here, in Sunnydale. In the very mansion where he'd -

"Giles?" Buffy said in a small voice. "You just went really, really white."

"I, er, thank you, Buffy, for telling me," he managed. His lips felt numb; his voice felt as though it was coming from far away. "I'm fine, really, I - it's a bit of a shock, of course, but - but truly . . ." He trailed off into silence, unable to finish, and closed his eyes.

He opened them when he felt her weight shift on the bed. She'd crawled up next to him, settling herself on top of the covers. To his shock she reached over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. To his even greater shock, he accepted it, leaning in to lay his head on her shoulder.

"I promise you," she said, her voice a little rough, "I promise you that nothing is going to happen. I swear, Giles, please believe me."

He nodded. "I do. Thank you." He drew a deep breath. "It must have been very difficult to tell me."

"Yeah, well . . ." She shrugged, leaning against his shoulder. "Last night was sort of an eye-opener - in more ways than one," she added dryly. He felt himself flush and she smiled at him tentatively. "You and Wes, though? It's of the good?"

He nodded. "Yes, it is."

"Well," she shrugged, "okay then. I am a fan of the happy Giles. And I like Wes."

Giles smiled. "So do I." He pulled away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I . . ." Giles paused. Truthfully, he wasn't, and they both knew it. This was a shock, and not a pleasant one, though he knew Buffy's feelings on the matter had to be very mixed. But he wasn't alone in dealing with it, he realized. He wouldn't have to hide away what he was feeling, he wouldn't have to play the adult until he cracked under the strain. He had Wes, now. And Buffy, who had proven the night before how much she'd grown recently. "I will be," he said, and meant it.

"Good." She sprang up. "Can I make you breakfast? I promise not to blow anything up. Eggs? Toast? Bacon?"

Giles smiled ruefully. "Anything you like," he said, "just as long as it isn't chocolate."

_Fin._


End file.
